


The Ghost In You

by BoxWineConfessions



Series: Otabek Altin Week 2017 [5]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Ghost Sex, Ghost fluff, M/M, PWP, erotic possession, ghost boyfriend and living boyfriend in love, ghost otabek, with a ghost
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 17:52:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12587372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoxWineConfessions/pseuds/BoxWineConfessions
Summary: “Look, this is my life now. This is normal.” Yuri grabs for Otabek’s hand, and he moves it so that they fit together the best that they can. Although he cannot feel the warmth or the pressure of his touch, they look right when they’re clasped together, and that’s worth something for sure.OR: nothing can stop true love, not even that pesky little matter of, "til death do us part."





	The Ghost In You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geminicat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geminicat/gifts).



> For sarahhjade, I'm glad we're friends.

“Happy birthday Yura.” Otabek smiles at him, and leans forward brushing his hair out of his face. It falls to the side instead of getting tucked behind his ear.  Yuri can feel the cool touch of his fingers on the shell of his ear. “Make a wish.” Otabek’s eyes are soft, and they shine with the warmth reflected off of the thin candle sunk into the cupcake that sits between them. 

Yuri is in love. 

Closes his eyes, laces his fingers between Otabek’s and does as he’s told. He takes a deep breath, and makes a wish. Upon opening his eyes again he laughs, “We’re the same age now.” 

“Hm,” Otabek agrees.

“Next year, I’ll be older than you.” 

At this statement, the corner of Otabek’s mouth tugs into a frown. “How does that make you feel? Of course, known only to Yuri, this is Otabek’s way of indicating that he is upset, but he cannot or will not express himself. 

“Uhm,” Yuri raises the cupcake to his mouth and licks off the neon pink frosting. Immediately his tongue feels stuck to the roof of his mouth. He smacks his lips against the sugar paste loudly. He’s grateful for the distraction. It gives him time to think about what to say because they've tried their hardest to move past the argument of, “well you’re the one that is dead,” and Otabek’s inevitable counter argument, “You’re the one that’s still alive. You decide.” 

“I think it will be kind of cool.” Yuri decides as he bites into the cupcake. “Since you were always lording it over my head growing up, “I’m older I have to be responsible,” he tries to mock the tone of Otabek’s ever serious voice, but it doesn’t work.  

As much as they both claim to be past it, it’s difficult to keep their minds from drifting back to the past. The memory of a cold January day and a trip to the lake that was completely unremarkable is  _ always _ present in the back of their minds. It’s always present, but the details are never clear.  The day itself was so unremarkable that he doesn’t know if grandpa told them to be careful when they pulled their skates out of the storage bin in the shed. He  _ assumes _ that he did, but he can’t be sure because he  _ always _ did. What if he forgot to tell them  _ that _ day? What if Yuri misremembers, and only assumes that he did?  As important as the day was, the details blend into the fuzzy mixture of what is real and what is just real enough to count as fact in the mind’s eye. 

He can remember Otabek was wearing the thick black pea coat that Yuri always thought made him look so cool. He  _ thinks _ he can remember his hand in bright yellow mittens clasped in Otabek’s, but here’s the thing. He knows he lost those mittens around that time. So, he’ll never be sure. 

The mind is strange and cruel that way. His mind can conjure the image that Otabek had slept over that night. He can remember perfectly that they woke up together snuggled beneath blankets, but what if he’s misremembering that too? What if he’d really come over at 8 A.M., no sooner than he’d rolled out of bed and walked across the yard to Yuri’s building?

Yuri can remember Otabek rotating on his skate and launching into a clean single axel. Yuri can remember doing the same, and landing too hard on a jump. He can remember the ice cracking, and he feel the ghost of the blinding cold white pain that pulled at every single nerve of his body on his skin whenever he closes his eyes.  He can remember that bogged down with water, the peacoat felt as if it were weighted down with bricks. 

In the present, Yuri shovels the rest of the cupcake into his mouth and wipes his hands on his comforter. “Look, this is my life now. This is normal.” Yuri grabs for Otabek’s hand, and he moves it so that they fit together the best that they can. Although he cannot feel the warmth or the pressure of his touch, they look right when they’re clasped together, and that’s worth something for sure.

Everyone knows that the boy who  _ almost  _ died falling through the lake is haunted by the boy who actually did die. Otabek is a legend in their quiet little rusted out neighborhood having appeared before almost everyone.  

Grandpa knows that he’s near whenever the china rattles in the cabinet at dinner time, “you forgot to set Beka a plate gramps.” Whenever this happens, Yuri leaps up from the table and grabs another set of mismatched floral china. Otabek’s mother knows that he’s near always. She teaches literature at the high school, and she watches Otabek hover over his shoulder while she gives lecture each day. She used to stare at them both with equal tinges of bitterness and sorrow. Now, she simply sneakily slides Yuri two quizzes so that the other children do not see, and Otabek does not feel left out. 

Yuri knows that Otabek isn’t going anywhere. “This is how I wanna be. If end up forty with an eighteen year old ghost boyfriend, then fuck everybody else.” 

“Right,” Otabek says. Yuri knows that this method of agreement indicates that Otabek isn’t so much soothed, as he is unconvinced but ready to end the conversation. “People change Yura.” 

Yuri knows that Otabek fears the day that he’ll eventually want someone who is living. Otabek assumes that he’ll want to leave this place. Otabek believes that Yuri can ever see a life for himself as someone other than the boy with a ghost on his shoulder.

Yuri knows that Otabek feels guilty. Despite his talents and his promise, Yuri hasn’t been out on the ice ever since that day. It’s not Otabek’s fucking fault. He tried going to the fucking rink, and his throat closed up and his feet cemented to the floor. 

Worst of all, he can’t even think about the day ever coming that he’d want Otabek to go away.  Sucks that Otabek can’t see that.  He’d been writing Yuri Altin in the margins of his notebook ever since he was eight years old. 

What Otabek doesn’t know is that he’s selfish. What if one day Otabek feels like he’s finally, truly at peace with what happened? What if they’re out and he walks through a cross or something, and is sent to the other side? For months after Otabek died, he appeared at Yuri’s side silent with ice blue lips. Hearing Otabek finally say, “Yura, I’m here to protect you,” felt like such a relief in comparison that he pulled back the quilts on his bed and told Otabek to come to sleep. Yuri will always need Otabek’s protection, but what if Otabek, god, or the devil himself don’t feel the same way? 

“Oh my fucking god,” Yuri lunges at him, and instead of tackling him down onto the bed in a fury of limbs, Yuri drifts down toward the quilt in slow motion. Otabek’s abilities are limited, but he makes it known from time to time that he can, and he does influence the tangible world in which Yuri lives. Yuri expects to hit the quilt, but instead Otabek keeps him hovering just inches above. It looks and it feels as if he’s really laying on Otabek’s chest. “I love you jackass. I’d love you if you were a six armed demon that hid in the toilet bowl and popped out to scare me when I stumble in in the middle of the night to take a piss.” 

Otabek laughs, but Yuri’s chest that rumbles with delight.  

Something unseen and icy brushes against Yuri’s lips. Yuri closes his eyes and opens his mouth letting Otabek explore his body. Truth be told, he kind of loves kissing Otabek like this. For all the fire, and the heat, and the pressure they had  _ before _ , something about this made them take it slower. He can feel the cool electric sensation press against his tongue and the roof of his mouth. There’s pressure at the base of his neck as Otabek cups his face. Then, there’s the feeling of an ethereal hand sliding down his back, and up his shirt. Yuri’s skin pebbles into gooseflesh, and he sighs into the contact. Then, there’s very real feeling hand rubbing his ass through his jeans. 

Otabek’s ability to interact with the living is limited. He can pick, and he can choose, but he cannot do  _ everything.  _ Otabek  _ always _ seems to save his energy to grab his ass. Cool hands grip his cheeks and knead the flesh so hard that Yuri gasps into Otabek’s mouth.  Then, Otabek is working a hand between his legs, and kissing him through it all. 

Suspended in mid-air, Yuri rocks his hips against Otabek. Yuri asked once if he could feel. Otabek said that he  _ could _ , but everything was muted. By now Yuri knows that Otabek cannot feel pain, and he can almost feel pleasure, but what he likes is knowing that Yuri feels good. 

“Would you like one of your birthday gifts now?” 

Yuri opens his eyes, blinking slowly as if he’d just woken up from a nap. Fooling around with Otabek always makes him feel like he’s waking up from a very good dream with the air conditioner cranked a little bit too high. Being with Otabek makes him feel so relaxed but so turned on. His body and his mind twist and writhe to grapple with the feeling. “Gifts?” Yuri arches a single golden brow. “As in more than one?” 

“Hm,” Otabek nods. “Two.” 

“Yeah, gimme.” 

Otabek presses the rest of the way down onto the mattress, so that he’s laying on his stomach. 

“Turn over Yura.” 

Yuri complies, so that he’s looking up at the nicotine yellow popcorn ceiling. “What am I getting?” Yuri starts to wriggle out of his shirt, but Otabek places a hand upon his chest. Otabek’s presence feels so heavy and real that  it makes him pause completely. 

“Do you trust me Yuri?” 

“Of course.” 

“I think I can do something where we can both really like it, but it involves um.” Otabek catches his bottom lip between his teeth, and it makes Yuri reach upward and brush his hand against, and eventually into Otabek’s face. Whatever it is, it’s alright. Otabek wouldn’t hurt him. They both know that. “Possession.” 

“Holy shit you can do that?” 

“I think so,” Otabek responds. “I’ve been getting stronger.” At that, the hem of Yuri’s shirt is rucked up past his nipples, and Yuri squirms beneath Otabek’s cool touch. 

Yuri wets his lips with his tongue. “Let’s do it!” 

First, it feels like Otabek is laying on top of him. The sensation reminds him of all the times that Otabek would fuck him in missionary, cum inside, and slump against his body.  Then, Yuri feels pressure all over his body. It’s nothing  _ too _ out of the ordinary. The feeling is similar to what happens when  Otabek is touching him normally. The hair stands up on his arms, but everything feels so right. Now, it’s that plus the feeling that he’s had one too many glasses of wine. He feels cold, like he needs to cover with a blanket, but that feeling soon fades and is replaced by a tingling heat.  _ That _ reminds him of the time Otabek dared him to lick a battery. 

“You okay Yura?” 

“I’m fine,” he can’t see Otabek anymore.  He can’t really  _ hear _ Otabek’s voice, so much as he feels Otabek asking him. He assumes that whatever it is that Otabek did, it worked. 

Yuri’s hand moves of it’s own volition from his side to his chest and skims over his chest. Assumption fuckin proven correct.  “Never better really,” he says with a grin. “How are you?” 

“Forgot how soft you were.” 

“So you’re fucking fine.” Yuri says with a smile. 

Yuri’s hands drift up and down his stomach, and Otabek makes sure that he catches every line and every divot of muscle. Yuri drags his nails back upward to his chest, and Otabek traces his nipples with his fingers. They’ve had to get pretty creative ever since...Otabek loves to watch and tell him what to do. He always has Yuri play with his nipples. So, Yuri is indulgent of Otabek, and lets him tug and soothe the skin over and over again until there are tears in the corners of his eyes, and his nipples are pinched pink and sore. 

Otabek moves Yuri’s hands across his chest, and even though it’s his own hand, the pressure and the drag feel completely different. The touch is much more patient and much more skilled. In an instant, he knows this is a thousand or more times better than being told what to do by Otabek. Under Otabek’s guidance, Yuri sits up, and peels off his shirt. 

“Feels good?” 

Yuri’s hands drift up his neck, and he cups his own face, which would be kind of strange if it weren’t Beka getting to know his body all over again. Otabek guides Yuri’s fingers to his mouth, but it’s Yuri that consciously parts his lips to let them in. He coats the fingers in saliva, bobbing on them like he’d do for Otabek’s cock. He nips at the skin lightly, assuming that Otabek can feel the slight sharp flash of pain that fades to hazy love drunk pleasure. 

“Yeah,” Yuri husks when Otabek removes the fingers from his mouth. His wet hand lingers on his cheek for a moment, before being dragged down his bare chest. Yuri props himself up on a single elbow to watch Otabek work his magic.  With Yuri’s free hand, Otabek pops open the button on his jeans. Otabek always had fucking talent like that. 

Otabek pushes his jeans and his underwear down Yuri’s legs, and Yuri can feel his resolve rapidly crumble. His plan was to let Otabek do whatever he wanted for however long that he wanted, but...His heart races, no doubt a combination of Otabek’s excitement and his own. Otabek’s touches become erratic, as if he isn’t sure where to move next, or what to do. His own hands graze over his hips, his cock, in between his legs to tug at the soft skin of his sac. Each and every touch makes him squirm involuntarily, and his need for more edges out his desire to make Otabek happy. 

“Good for you too huh?” Yuri teases. Otabek’s touches were always erratic when he was about to cum. 

“Incredibly,” Otabek responds. “You feel  _ so _ much.” At that, Yuri tucks his legs up to his chest, not of his own volition of course, moves his hands to...Yuri feels his mouth fall open horror as Otabek moves his hand downward. 

_ Smack _ . 

“Otabek what the fuck? You can’t make me smack my own ass.” 

“Sorry Yura,” except he’s not fucking sorry, and he does it again. Asshole. Fuck that. It’s  Yuri’s own body, and he’s not so detached from back then that he forgets what Otabek likes. He unfolds his legs, lays flat on the bed again, and grips his cock giving it a single hard pump. 

The groan that is torn from his mouth is a low rolling thunder that _doesn’t_ belong to him. “Yuri.” 

“C’mon Beka, that’s the rule. You can do whatever you want to me,” he pants as he works his hand over his cock. “Just don’t make me look too stupid. Okay?” 

“Deal.” 

Yuri can feel the hand on his cock tingle. Then, the touch on his cock changes indicating that Otabek has taken over for him. Otabek tugs downward, and then twists his hand upward. For a moment all Yuri can do is moan Otabek’s name in broken syllables and watch the head of his cock disappear and emerge from his foreskin over and over again. 

Yuri can feel his toes curl with a familiar warmth. It spreads up his legs, and into his stomach, and he knows that he’s close…Except, one critical component is absent. There’s only thing that he wants more than anything else. “Beka, not yet,” he sobs. 

Otabek stills Yuri’s hand on his cock. Yuri doesn’t have to say anything. It’s like Otabek knows too. Yuri’s arm snaps back and reaches for the bottle of lube that he keeps in the bookshelf near the headboard. With pleasure blown eyes, Yuri watches the clear liquid slide down his fingers, and spill onto the bedspread. Then, he flops back down onto the bed under Otabek’s direction. 

The first finger is admittedly a tight fit. He’s been super busy with school lately, so the most they’ve been doing is jerking off and making out. “So tight Yura.” 

“Yeah,” Yuri chuckles. “Or I can’t relax because you’re always so tense.” It’s a joke of course, but Otabek is immediately affected.  Yuri can feel his chest rise with Otabek’s huff indignant huff. “Seriously,” Yuri forces the air into his lungs, and he exhales slowly. Then, he does it again. “Calm down.” 

“Yura,” Otabek whines. Yuri can feel himself clench around the single digit, but his body doesn’t yield. 

From the mattress Yuri lifts his arm, which feels as if it’s been weighted down by a magnet, and the quilt is made of steel. Yuri tears his hand away from the upturned blankets, and rests it on his cock. He gives himself a few slow strokes, and slowly but surely his body relaxes. Then, he can feel Otabek work a second finger inside. 

“You feel so good Yuri.” 

“So do you.” 

It takes a long time, but they build up a rhythm: push tug, push tug. Yuri’s body feels like a candle burning at both ends, and now that he’s so close he’s not sure if he wants it to end. Yet, he cannot slow down. He cannot stop himself. He can feel more pressure on his hole as Otabek sinks in another finger. With three fingers, it’s difficult to hit his spot, but he feels full and somehow that matters more. Doing it this way feels more like Otabek’s cock felt. Feels real. Yuri twists his fist around his cock, and from his mouth spills Otabek and Yuri’s voices at once, hissing each others names and making a single muddled blend of syllables. “Otabek” layered on top of “Yuri.” 

Otabek’s spirit leaves Yuri’s body, and the feeling is far more bizarre than the actual act of possession. While Otabek was inside of him, there was no pressure, no pain, or the slightest hint of unpleasant sensation. Otabek’s exit feels as if something heavy had been sitting on Yuri’s chest, and Otabek’s exit signifies relief. 

Otabek appears at his side, and he can feel cool lips upon his mouth again. He can feel Otabek try to tuck his hair back behind his ear, and fail to do so. “I love you Yuri.” 

“Love you too Beka.” 

They lie like that for some time. Otabek traces soft icy patterns onto his skin, and Otabek’s cool touch makes his sweat dampened skin turn to gooseflesh.  Yuri sighs with contentment. He doesn’t stir until he thinks about the rest of the frosted cupcakes in the Tupperware container in the kitchen. Then, he sits up and asks, “you said I had two gifts.” 

“Memory box,” Otabek supplies. “I’d get it for you but,” Otabek tails his hands down Yuri’s side eventually resting on his thigh. 

“Ghost batteries drained?” That happens to him whenever Otabek does a  _ lot _ of interacting with the human world. He cannot grab things, or he cannot talk, or his spirit becomes more translucent than usual. They’d just done a  _ lot _ of physical, tangible things. 

“Yes,” Otabek admits. 

Yuri rises, and goes to his shelf where his memory box sits. It’s filled with all kinds of things that Otabek has brought him through the years: pressed flowers, gold coins from his father’s collection, stamps, iron jacks from when they were children. When Otabek first died, he had very limited ability to act with the physical world, and so his gifts were strange: bits of twine, and odd shaped twigs. He couldn’t bring much home, but he wanted to bring Yuri gifts nonetheless. One time, he brought him the neighbor’s kid’s milk tooth after he lost it and jammed it under his pillow, and waited for the tooth fairy. It was weird, but it stayed in the memory box nonetheless. 

Yuri immediately notices a small tarnished silver ring in the box.  He grabs it up immediately and rubs the tarnish away revealing a streak of pure silver. 

“Found it in the gutter when you were waiting for the bus.” 

Yuri shoves the ring down his finger. “That’s what you were fucking around with.” 

“Yeah,” Otabek admits. “Like it?” 

“Yeah,” Yuri breathes. “It’s nice.” He holds his hand upward toward the light. It catches, and it shines despite the fact that it still desperately needs a cleaning. “You asking me to-“ His mouth pulls into a smirk. 

“There’s that cumbersome, “til death,” part,” Otabek responds. 

“We’ll leave that part out. Okay?” 


End file.
